


Sleepless

by blazingsnark



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, ah well let's post it here as well as Tumblr, and i have almost no memory of writing it, so apparently i wrote this at two in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8146976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazingsnark/pseuds/blazingsnark
Summary: Demonio, for reasons unspecified, is now bound to Noblesse instead of Diabla.  Cue Lu being gentle with her new not-so-newly-broken Ciel.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [her sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925053) by [Meepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meepy/pseuds/Meepy). 



> If you like this, please check out the fic which this was inspired by! Meepy is a fantastic writer!

He doesn't sleep anymore.

Not really, at least – he can catch catnaps here and there, closing his eyes for a moment while leaning against a wall, or dozing to pass the time as he and Lu wait to complete an ambush, but he doesn't curl up in pajamas under blankets and sleep. A side effect of the darkness in his soul, the madness seeping through the cracks in his humanity, he thinks.

(And there are more cracks than humanity.)

He stops what he's doing, stares at the cookie dough in the darkness and tries to judge if it's too thick. Maybe by just a bit. He reaches for the milk, splashes more into the bowl, sprinkles yet another handful of chocolate chips in, and keeps stirring.

His old master didn't sleep either. The night was the time they walked free together, Diabla powerful and glorious in her madness, Ciel at her heels and only asking 'where' when she told him to shoot.

But the new Lu sleeps.

Noblesse, the new Lu calls herself, and she is purity and sanity in every way that Diabla was corruption and madness. Looking at his stained hands, knowing the sclera of one eye is stained black, Ciel feels almost unworthy to be beside her now. She deserves a butler in shining blue silk, not someone tainted and corrupted like him.

(But even light casts a shadow. And he would rather be her shadow than one without a light; he couldn't be anyone else's.)

The cookies are rolled out and he slides them into the oven. There's a rustle of fabric while his back is turned and he straightens up like whiplash, his hands going to his gunblades before he sees the small figure in her gauzy nightdress standing at the kitchen entrance.

(He didn't recognize her silence.)

“What are you doing up?” she asks. Ciel lowers his gaze, dismisses the paranoia.

“I can't sleep.”

She pauses for one breath, two breaths, then her small feet patter across the floorboards and she sits at the table.

“Turn the lights on, Ciel. And make me tea. Chamomile, please.”

He flicks on the lights and closes his eyes, letting his other senses compensate as he moves to fulfill Lu's request.

It doesn't pass unnoticed. “Ciel, does the light hurt your eyes?”

The light hurts his mind, not his eyes, agitates the madness (insanity filth darkness) broiling in his head and heart. Ciel shakes his head.

“If it's easier for you, turn off the lights and light a candle.”

Ciel hesitates – it would be easier, but does that matter? He can, _will_ bear pain for Lu's sake. It's why he's never complained about the demonic weights of the power on his soul or the horn on his head.

Not doing so would involve denying Lu, though. He lights a candle with a scrape of matches, turns off the lights, opens his eyes and continues making Lu's tea.

She watches him in silence. With Diabla, that silence would be malicious and Ciel would know he displeased her, that some punishment was coming. But now it just heralds a contemplative mood.

He gives her the teacup, pours her tea after it's finished steeping. She sips it.

She hums approval. Ciel is satisfied.

(Pleasing her should be his only goal.)

Two refills before the oven timer beeps. Ciel sets down the teapot carefully, looking for approval in a small nod before he moves to take the cookies from the oven.

Lu watches him still, slender fingers curled around the teacup's handle and her pale cheek propped on her other palm. Ciel sets the cookies to cool and comes back to her.

“Ciel,” she murmurs, holding out her teacup. Ciel refills it in silence, sensing that Lu is not done speaking.

“Do you ever have nightmares?”

Diabla had a skill to give waking nightmares. When she was angry, she would use it on Ciel. He shakes his head.

(Noblesse is a dream to Diabla's nightmare. He doesn't want to wake up.)

“I dreamt I lost you,” Lu says.

Ciel doesn't respond. Lu sips her tea.

If she lost him, would it be that big of a deal? He is madness, sin, evil. She deserves better than him anyways.

(He is selfish. He doesn't want to lose her.)

But no matter how sane and pure, Lu herself will always be a demon too.

Her tail twitches and she hums, looking up at him for a response. Ciel wants to kneel. Looking down at her feels wrong.

“I will always be your royal strength, my Queen,” he murmurs, sliding his foot back and going to one knee. He's just below eye level.

Lu smiles. It's a sad smile.

“I know.”

Ciel says nothing – what can he say? Did he do something to disappoint her? He refills her teacup when she holds it out.

The teapot is nearly empty and it is closer to sunrise than sunset when Lu sets down the teacup with a  _clink_ of white china.

“Ciel. Sleep with me tonight.”

Eyes lowered, he nods.

(Diabla had asked the same of him.)

She rises, turns, heads back to her room. Ciel stands, pushes in her chair, follows.

Lu climbs into bed and pushes the covers back, motioning for Ciel to shut the door.

He does so. Then slowly, methodically, he unbuttons his shirt and detaches the armor, carefully folding it over a chair.

Lu watches him in silence. When the black leather pants join his shirt and he stands before her in nothing but black boxers, she points to the closet.

“There are pajama pants in there.”

Ciel stands confused for a moment before he turns and gets the soft pants from the closet. They're patterned with Phoru. He slips them on.

(She truly is purity, innocence.)

Lu pats the bed beside her and he moves silently over, carefully sitting down. Lu leans into him.

“Lie down,” she tells him.

He obeys. Lu scoots closer and curls up against his chest.

(Her hair smells of demonic magic, sans his madness.)

“Pull up the covers,” she says, and Ciel does so, then carefully gathers her close, expecting to be snapped at and told to let go at any given moment.

Lu simply lets out a sigh and closes her eyes. Her small hand splays out against the mark seared into his chest.

(He doesn't need a mark to remember he is hers. But he has two.)

“Good night, Ciel,” she murmurs. Ciel murmurs it back and watches her fall asleep.

Once her breathing has slowed, he releases his grip slightly. Lu stays curled up tight, so he cradles her close again.

She is purity and sanity, the light to his stained darkness. Her white hair spreads over the pillows, silky in a way his old master's never was.

What was it that drove her to request this of him? Was it the nightmare? Ciel has vowed to her that he will be her royal strength, he will follow her as she reclaims power, honor, glory, and he swears to himself now that he will protect her from nightmares as well.

So he doesn't leave her.

(He never will.)

He bends his head to hers and keeps his eyes wide open, scanning the darkness, his strong mistress' fragile hand almost scorching hot against the contract branded into his skin.

If he dozes off during the small hours, it is into a soft and dreamless darkness which he falls.

 


End file.
